


Careless Whisper

by courie969



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, First Kiss, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courie969/pseuds/courie969
Summary: Dance AU inspired by the song Careless Whisper covered by Seether - When Dean says nothing to Castiel, Cas does the only thing he could think of - he runs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is work is inspired by, and kind of a companion to the song Careless Whisper, covered by Seether, heard  
> [here](https://youtu.be/I7imqO-OBVk)

He had known he was taking a risk revealing what what felt to his dance partner for the past eight months, to his best friend, really. They had spent so much time together, had shared so much with each other, it seemed that the natural course of things would be for feelings to get involved. He didn't mean to say anything, not really, but sitting there together on the steps of the dance school, breathing in each others' warmth and their heads together, sharing earbuds and listening to their song – the song that started the entire mess in the first place – he couldn't help himself and he blurted out the words that had been swimming in his mind for weeks. He said the words he was so sure would be reciprocated, even though they had never spent any time discussing anything more than a friendship between them. The look of shock and confusion on the face of his best friend was enough to tell him that he was wrong, that he had misjudged the small touches and caresses and soft looks they shared as they danced together. Realizing his mistake, he did the only thing he could think to do – he ran. He ripped out his earbud, picked up his duffle bag, and he ran.

Castiel ran up the steps and into the school he had worked himself so hard to be accepted to. He bumped into the sparse number of other students still lingering in the building, and still he ran, ignoring the indigent protests from the people he bumped. He ran past the first classroom they had met each other in, and he ran further down the corridor and passed the open studios they sometimes practiced in with their friends, his mind reeling with the possibility of having to drop out of the school, unable to complete their choreographed dance they had worked so hard on. He was already skating on thin ice, having had to beg and plead to use the music they wanted, and even more so to dance as two men. He turned another corner and finally stopped running to slowly walk down the silent hallway, his body vibrating in frustration and regret, and the thought that maybe he could just do the dance himself, since he knew for sure he had lost his partner. The slower walk down the hall to the studio should have given him a calming effect, like it usually did, but heartbreak and resentment took every hold on him; instead, even the weight of the duffle bag on his shoulder containing his street clothes just filled him with sadness, penitence that he dared whisper anything at all.

Brushing his fingertips along the wall, he heaves a sigh when he reaches his destination, the private studio room they reserved every Saturday. Blowing out a slow breath and ignoring the feeling of hope and possibility that maybe his dance partner followed him, or beat him to their room, he opens the door to find the room they had scheduled completely empty. He had expected it, but it didn't make it hurt any less. He enters the room and all but slams the door shut before staring at himself in the floor to ceiling mirrors for a moment before shaking his head to clear it. He drops his bag in a corner and stretches out his body, removing his track pants and stripping down to his flesh colored leotard, haphazardly shoving the clothes into his bag. Walking over to the stereo system already set up in the room, he hits play and takes his place in the middle of the room.

They had a routine already, a dance planned out – timed perfectly with music they both had chosen, that they had both loved, but stepping into the middle of the room and getting into the correct position broke something in Castiel's resolve and he realized – the song wasn't meant to be a love song, it was meant as a song for heartbreak, and instead of the open yet slow and calculated movements on the accent as they had planned from the beginning of their choreography, he starts with his head down, waiting the beats for the drum of the music to start. When it does, he spins in slow pirouettes, his arms out stretched, trying to release his misery, spinning faster and faster until he was dizzy and his stomach was as queasy and sick as his heart was feeling. At the first slight break in the song, he falters. Dropping to the floor, he slams his fists into the wood with an angry cry, frustration in himself for tripping up, for letting his emotions cloud his judgment, for letting himself make a mistake. Castiel picks himself back up and spins again, adding in jumps when the music tells him to. He glides across the floor, avoiding watching himself in the mirrors, and he dances, letting the turmoil he feels so deep in his bones seep out of his limbs as he jumps and spins. 

He sings along to the song, something he normally doesn't allow himself to do. “We could have been so good together,” he sings. His breath hitching at the words sung in the crescendo and he drops to the floor onto his knees with a sob. He folds his body into himself and lets the tears he had been holding in since his proclamation of love was met with stunned silence fall, the wet drops dripping heavily onto his knees. He lets the tears continue to fall as he constantly replays the scene over and over in his mind, wallowing in self pity and full of questions of why he let himself become so attached. He questions himself on how he could have ever thought his confession could have been reciprocated. He simply cries, his heart breaking over and over again. 

The tears falter slightly when he feels a presence by his side, having never heard the studio door open, and his entire body tenses. When he feels strong arms wrap around his core, arms that he recognizes as Dean's, pulling him into a tight embrace, he gasps for air, not even realizing he had been holding his breath, and relaxes his body into the chest of the other man, crying openly against Dean's neck, babbling a litany of “I'm sorry,” as if he could ever take his love back and tuck away, hidden again, if only so he wouldn't lose his best friend, too.

He feels Dean's fingers on his neck, stroking softly, and then in his hair. He looks up when he feels a tug, but stays against Dean's chest, reveling in the comfort it gives, though he knows he should pull himself away. His watery blue eyes meet soft green, his own face tear streaked and pale whereas Dean's expression was of slight concern. Dean studies him for a moment, and Castiel stares, his expression blank as he waits, knowing that Dean will say something in his own time. He feels the fingertips in his hair, holding on as if it gave the other man penance for his supposed rejection.

The fingers drop from his scalp and Dean pulls away from him, causing Castiel to advert his eyes and look downward with a frown. He startles slightly when he feels a hand placed on his shoulder and another caress his cheek, long fingers pressing to his chin, effectively lifting his head up to look at Dean again. He holds himself back from leaning into the caress, and instead closes his eyes to avoid looking back at Dean, unsure if he could hold himself together, he swallows with a loud click, his breath hitching once again, rogue tears leaking out of his closed eyes. He feels the air shift around them and gasps in surprise when he feels soft lips press against his own, almost in a hesitant question, his eyes fluttering open in shock as Dean kisses him. Keeping still, he feels Dean's thumb brush across his cheek, wiping away dampness there, and Dean offers him a tentative smile. 

Castiel opens his mouth to speak, to question, to beg for answers, and for forgiveness for his own foolish feelings, but Dean places both hands on either side of his face, and smiles at Castiel. He seems to falter for a moment but takes a large breath. “You.. you..” he stutters slightly before exhaling, seemingly to steady himself, “You ran before I could respond,” he says, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly as he watches Castiel's face.

“I shouldn't have..” Castiel says, eyes downcast and doing everything they can to not look at Dean, clearly uncomfortable in his misgiving, but Dean interrupts, his voice gruff and unsteady, emotional.

Castiel stares at Dean, searching his face, and Dean picks himself up off the floor, holding a hand out to Castiel, who takes the outreached hand in his own, pulling himself to his feet. Dean walks over to the stereo and hits repeat, starting the song over. He stands before Castiel and sweeps his arms low into a bow, which Castiel returns with a slight look of confusion.

At the first beat of the music, Dean spins, starting the steps of the dance they had been working on for months to perfect. He watches Castiel as he dances his part solo, waiting for his partner to shake off his unease. When Castiel joins in at the start of the chorus, Dean grins at him, and the two dancing around each other, mimicking movements and answering unasked questions with their body language. They reach for each other in response to dips and twirls and spins, completing the movements they knew by heart, their eyes never leaving each other, watching and calculating their partner's movement. They leap and jump and spin, just as they had always practised, but the energy seemed different – something more – as if they were holding a conversation with the very air moving around their bodies. 

Castiel drops to the floor, on cue, reaching for his partner. “Please stay,” the lyrics croon, and Castiel clutches his hand to his chest as the dance turns Dean away, yet in a flurry of pirouettes and a grand jeté, the dance brings him back, dropping to the floor in front of Castiel, his body position the same but his own hand reaching to touch the others' face at the ending of the song, both breathing heavy as the music fades away into silence, their dance finished.

“Damn it, Cas... I love you, too.” Dean whispers, never adverting his eyes, and Castiel jerks in surprise, his mouth falling open as he stares at Dean's face. Seeing the open honesty in the green eyes staring back into his own, Castiel surges forward and capture's Dean's mouth in a heated kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around Dean, pulling him in close. Dean willingly complies, returning the kiss with parted lips, his head tilting slightly, slotting their mouths together in perfection. When Castiel dares to dart the tip of his tongue out to caress Dean's lower lip, Dean chuckles slightly and pulls back and out of Castiel's embrace. He picks himself off the floor and holds out a hand to Castiel, who takes the outstretched hand in his own and pulls himself to his feet.

“C'mon Cas,” Dean says with an easy smile, and Castiel nods, stopping to pick up his discarded duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smile, and the two men lace their fingers together as they leave the room, with no thought to their song still playing on repeat.


End file.
